


we'll be okay in the end

by dreamyshadows



Series: amor vincit omnia [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 11, Top Dean, for some reason i just always use spit as lube, slight stubble kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyshadows/pseuds/dreamyshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set loosely after the events of episode 10, "the devil in the details", written for a prompt asking for bunker!sex, makeup sex and sam being obsessed with dean's stubble.</p><p>---</p><p>How Dean's dealing with the aftermath of Sam v/s the Devil, and how he chooses to resolve it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll be okay in the end

**Author's Note:**

> feedback always welcome!
> 
> *not beta'd

It's been a rough couple of days.

Both he and Sam have been through hell, and his brother -- although recovering -- isn't looking too good. That's always a cause for concern, and before he knows it, Dean's sinking into a bottomless pit of worry. Sam's never had to say much; his eyes have always been eerily expressive, always signalling his feelings without him having to say a single word. Or maybe that's just Dean -- maybe it's just a big brother thing where he knows every single thing about Sam. Whatever it is, it doesn't let him sleep at night.

He worries constantly, and a few days after the Lucifer debacle, Sam finally breaks the fragile silence. 

"I'm fine, Dean. Better. Really."

For what it's worth, he believes Sam,  _he does,_ but he's too connected to his brother to let the matter go. Too tied to him, and so that little furrow between Sam's eyes is disconcerting. He wishes to God and Hell he could lay a little low and let go of this flagellating worry, but he can't. 

Sam just sighs and goes back to his research, those damned eyes crinkling with his own concern.

 

\----

Hunts have always been excellent sources of deflection and recovery. Nothing like saving people, hunting things to get their show on the road. Soon enough, Dean's chewing on his burgers and Sam is there, shaking his head and eating his own salad. It's not all gone, but it's getting there. Seeing his brother like this -- at ease and smiling is all Dean needs to take a step back.

Worry's still there, just on the back burner. 

 

\----

 

They haven't touched since the Cage.

Dean's too worried to try something, and so he doesn't bring it up. Stays in his corner, keeps his hands to himself unless it's checking Sammy for injuries, smoothing his hair away in his sleep, or brushing imaginary lint of his clothes. Touch is too important for him to forgo completely, but it isn't like him to demand anything either, so he sticks to the corner, hoping his brother will come around.

_Sam does._

 

\----

 

It happens while Dean's making Sam breakfast.

The eggs are sizzling, delighted to be finally used, and the bacon looks tempting. Here, next to the heat of the stove top, Dean comforts himself with the knowledge that his brother is only a few steps away from him, waiting calmly to be fed. A reminder of being needed is important to him -- and being needed by Sam is the most important reminder of all. 

He makes his way to the table, little jump in his step, a tune leaving his lips in a whistle.  _Happiness._ When his brother lifts the food to his mouth and exaggerates a moan, Dean stumbles on the belief that this is all he has ever wanted; the realization comforts him, and he digs in as well.

The kiss, now _that_ he doesn't expect.

 

\----

 

It's soft and gentle, much like a storm before it gathers true power. The touch builds into something more potent, need and want and love and lust eroding all reason, removing the gentility and placing urgency on the horizon. Lips, teeth, and tongue all collide strongly, and there is blood between them; Dean tastes the coppery tang and inhales his brother's warm scent, unable to differentiate who's it is.  _It doesn't matter -- they are one and same anyway._

His brother's hands, always soft and welcoming, frame his face so beautifully, and for a moment Dean thinks he's invincible. Fingers stroke his stubble, pulling on the short hair until he's gasping from the stimulation.

"You like that?"

Sam's words are whispered, the insinuation a heavy aphrodisiac when it hits Dean's ears. He nods, hands tangling in his brother's hair, pulling it as well. Sam moans at the contact, kissing Dean harshly, fingers now ripping apart the buttons at his collar. Something like  _too many clothes, can't get them all off,_ hazes around Dean's mind, but he's powerless to help; everything is too much to take in, too much sensation, too much  _love._

His heart and his head are full of Sam, and when he touches him, it's filled with the reverence of a man worshipping his God. Dean sighs when his brother palms his cock, blood rushing all the way down and making him feel dizzy. All his brother has to do is look at him with those and eyes and he's gone. 

"Fuck me, Dean.  _Need you so bad."_

Sam's voice is a soft whimper, and he sheds off his clothes to remove everything between them. Dean does the same; when he's with his brother, he wants there to be no barriers. Nothing to hide from, nothing that prevents him from loving every point of Sam's beautiful skin. This is a prayer, he tells himself. _This is all he needs to be redeemed._

 

_\----_

 

Foreplay has never really existed for them. After an eternity of being together, every move and touch is enough to set everything ablaze. Sam doesn't need any soft words or romantic kisses, and it's something Dean understands and is grateful for. Love flows unbounded from within him, but vocalization of it is far from easy. His hands have proved his need for his brother beautifully, _as they do now._

Dean traces his fingers down Sam's spine, painting his name into the skin, marking him for the rest of eternity.  _Mine. Mine. Mine._ Nothing will ever take his brother from him, nothing can. Under his touch, Sam keens. A soft movement and his brother is pulling him down onto the table, kissing him with the intent to claim him as well. He strokes his cheeks on Dean's stubble, the burn inflaming his hunger, red marks blooming on his skin and pushing his need high into the heavens.

Days of no touching don't allow for lube, so Dean does with spit. 

His fingers are wet with saliva when he touches his brother's core, and Sam nearly lifts off the table from the impact. Dean  _understands._ This feeling is more than mutual -- it's burned into his very bones. As gently as possible, he sinks into Sam's hole, digits tugging on the rim from the lack of lubrication. He pauses. Dean never wants to hurt Sam, but at this moment, there is no alternative. 

So he slicks up his fingers some more and scissors into his brother, all the while murmuring words of love and care. Sam's hole is too tight, and it grips him like a fucking vice; like it never wants to let him go, and it's bliss because Dean doesn't want to leave. His brother whines under his touches, hips rutting, eyes widening when Dean strokes that bundle of nerves inside him. His brother keens, whimpers so pretty at the touch, and it takes everything for Dean to not come at the sight.

"You're beautiful like this Sam -- all spread out and mine."

He's hard enough to cut diamonds -- diamonds like the ones in his brother's eyes -- and he finds no more reasons to wait. Sam is open and ready, hole nearly  _begging_ to be pounded. So Dean does that, holds his brother's arms above his head, and bottoms out in one long, jagged thrust. Sam jolts like he's been touched by a live-wire, the gold in his lenses nearly swallowing up the green.

Cries of  _yes, god, please, yes_ are all Dean has ever needed to lose his mind. It's everything to him; affirmation of love, reminder of paradise. His movements become frenzied, heartbeat thrumming in tune with Sam's moans, and fingers tightening around his brother's. Sam's voice fractures on his name, and Dean comes with the power of a thunderstorm, hips stuttering as he pours everything he is into his brother, life and death mingling in his mind.

 

\----

 

Overstimulation might kill him, but Dean will never rest until Sam's come, so he powers through his orgasm, thrusting into that one spot that reduces his brother into a quivering mess. His brother's whines are everything to him, and when Sam loses it, ropes of white landing on his stomach, Dean knows he's done well. 

Sam's shaking underneath him, arms trembling when they wrap themselves around Dean. 

"Needed that, wanted that."

The words are slurred, eyes already dropping. Sam's always been a woman after sex, emotions high and energy low. Dean smiles and gathers his brother into his arms, "I know Sammy, I know."

Nothing will take his brother away from him --  _nothing._

_\---- finit ----_

 

 


End file.
